


Hell's agony

by brightfire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean in Hell, Gen, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:17:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4132129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightfire/pseuds/brightfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe you deserve this pain. Maybe you deserve to be tortured. For everyone you hurt. For everyone that died because of you. For every sin. This is what hell was made for. You are getting punished for your crimes. | Oneshot about Deans time in hell [might contain spoilers]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell's agony

How long have you been here? How many years did you have to bear all this? You stopped counting. You stopped transferring the time in _real_ time. You stopped thinking of the _real_ world out there. There is too much _reality_ down here in the depths of hell.

The pain is real.

Every single time it feels awfully real although you know that it can't be. You should have died many times.

What haven't they done to you? Cutting your skin into pieces, burned it and poured acid over it until there was nothing left but white skinny bones. They teared out your organs. One by one. The beating heart at the very end of course.

You should have died or at least you should have loose your consciousness. But hell has its own codes.

You experience everything first hand.

You don't eat, you don't drink, you don't sleep but after endless days gone by you are still alive and breathing somehow. It's all kind of a cruel and very realistic nightmare and you can't wake up.

It has to be a dream. But it is none. You tried everything to prove that. Everything you could remember. You feel pain. This is just the first of many signs that you are not dreaming. You don't wake up when you die, you can see everything clear, you know since when you're here and you've got all your fingers if not Alastair decides to cut one off.

You've checked all those thing because you have time. Although normally you are not the one who believes in those things. But you also never really believed in hell.

But now you're here and you're getting first hand experience. And it seems like it's not gonna end in forever.

With every year that goes by you loose a part of yourself. What will be left at the end? Probably nothing more than the dark depths of your scarred soul.

The hardest thing is not the pain but the knowledge that it will go on forever. You are trapped here and the hell is eternal.

You will suffer an eternity.

From time to time you have to think about what Ruby told you. That everyone who goes to hell will surrender sometime. _Where did you think demons come from?_ she had asked you. You had never thought about it before. Now it is all you can think about.

Every day Alastair comes to you. (It feels like every day, but in hell there is no night and day so you can just guess.) He always seems like he has nothing better to do - nobody else he could torture - and he asks you the same simple question every time.

_Are you giving up, Dean?_

But you don’t even think of giving up and everything stays the same. So terribly unrealistic and realistic at the same time.

Your hands are tied up, your feet are hanging three feet above the ground, your eyes are closed. You want to see nothing of the world around you. Nothing at all. Not the dusty dirt, the streams of lava and the rotten bodies laying around, covering every inch of the dark earth. The sky is cloudless and so black that it seems like its soaking up every light in here. The air you breath feels dead and you can taste the brimstone that lingers everywhere.

You will never forget that. Not in your whole life.

Your whole life? Are you even living right know? You died actually, but you feel so alive even if your exhausted and in pain.

But every day you keep getting weaker. It works you out. You loose your humour at first, then your strong will and in the end bit by bit your hope. It drips out of your body like your blood does from your wounds. Slow but continuous.

They say _without suffering you wouldn’t know what happiness is_ , but that is bullshit. You just want to have a normal happy life without bothering with problems. But that is not your life. Your dad taught you to hunt and he put you in charge.

You would want to safe every single human if you could. But now you are the one that needs saving.

This day Alastair is punctual as usual. Not according to the time but he appears every time you think you are getting better. When you begin to feel your fingertips again and when the strength returns to your limbs. It seems like he can feel that you are feeling better again and waits exactly as long as it takes to get you to this point. Not longer but also not shorter.

He is grinning as you shot him an exhausted look. “How are you doing today, Dean?”, he asks as if he were a doctor and you his patient. Your answer is silence not because you don’t want to answer but because you don’t have enough strength left to do so. But your mind still hasn’t changed and you spit on the ground before him to show him that. To show him that he won’t break you today. But he looks just a bit amused. “Rebellious as ever, Mister Winchester”, he chuckles. “But even you will accept my offer if the time has come. Everyone did. Even your father…”

You wrench at your chains that keep you here and bite your teeth. The anger gives you strength. But not enough. Your father. He was also here and just to save you. He had to undergo the same things just because of you. Maybe you deserve this pain. Maybe you deserve to be tortured. For everyone you hurt. For everyone that died because of you. For every sin. This is what hell was made for. You are getting punished for your crimes.

The demon pulls out a knife with a serrated blade. “Today we’re doing it simple”, he says grinning, “no-frills.” He puts the blade on your cheek and you can feel how the sharp tip cuts into your skin.

The following hours you spent screaming while Alaistar draws the knife through your skin. It seems like he is following a trace. A pattern that you can’t figure out. A pattern out of skin and blood that no one understands but him. He is the artist and you are his canvas.

The light red blood mixes with sweat and tears while you fight. But you don’t fight the screams anymore. You don’t fight back the tears so that he won’t see your pain. You fight to not say this one sentence he is waiting for since the beginning.

_Stop. I can’t. I surrender._

But this time the pain is too much. You can’t hold back the words. The pain is strong enough to break your iron will. It _was_ iron but even iron can rust.

“Stop.” It is just a whisper but the demon hears it instantly. “What did you say?”, he asks bending over to you. “Say it again.” Tears are blazing a trail through your bloody face. “Make it stop.”

“So you surrender finally?”  
 _No_  a voice screams somewhere in your head but it is too late. You can’t go on anymore.  
You nod.

Alaistar reaches for your chin and you back away like a hurt animal. But he smiles. “This is the right decision, Dean”, he says almost friendly. Then he touches your forehead an the pain is gone like it was never been there before. All that is left is your broken soul.

The demon frees you from your chains and you fall onto your knees because you can’t stand on your own. Your hands are shaking as he gives you the knife.

“You’re ready for the next assignment, _my son_.”


End file.
